


You Be The Moon; I'll Be The Earth

by Herzeleids



Category: Rammstein
Genre: M/M, ok so first: i am going down with this ship, second: I HAVE NEVER POSTED MY WORK BEFORE PLEASE GO EASY ON ME, third: I have no idea how far i'll go with this fic but we'll just see yeah
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-19
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-06-03 06:20:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6600145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Herzeleids/pseuds/Herzeleids
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richard doesn't really read - and he especially hates the library. But his hatred for the library only lasts till he, one day, actually has to go there. And he sees Paul. Part-time librarian Paul. Suddenly the library is the most important priority in Richard’s life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Claude Monet, a.k.a. How They Met

**Author's Note:**

> I've decided to not follow their true age pattern, so their ages are:  
> Richard and Oliver; 18  
> Till and Flake; 19/20  
> Paul; 22  
> Christoph; 22-ish
> 
> (this isnt so important tbh)

RICHARD'S POV.

Fuck, he hated the library.

His grandfather owned a lot of books, but unfortunately he did not have anything even slightly readable about Claude Monet, who was the painter Richard had been assigned for his art class. That automatically forced him to visit the local library, exhorted by his friend and roommate Oliver.  
Rain was pouring down outside. It was early afternoon, and Richard was heading to the library. “Do you think I’ll be able to find my way through? Because that place is actually huge as fuck, dude,” Richard said as he wandered around in the apartment, looking for his library card. “You can ask one of those people who work there,” Oliver said. He didn’t look up from his book. ”Do you think those old people know their way around?” Richard mumbled bitterly, to which Oliver answered, “You are too negative, Reesh.” (what he meant was: “You suck, Reesh”.) “There are a couple of younger librarians there as well,” he continued, still more focused on the world in his hands than the current reality. “Whatever.” Richard grabbed his bag and an umbrella and headed out.

The library wasn’t too far away. He could get there by walking for about seven minutes. It seemed like the rain was forcing people to stay inside – he didn’t pass many people on his way. Those he made eye contact with under umbrellas, quickly greeted him and hurried by – and he felt a sudden, strange sensation of loneliness. It was like he just fully realized how small he was compared to the entire universe.  
“There’s a lover for everyone in this world,” his grandfather had said once. Richard had been 16, and had just had his heart broken by a girl for the first time. He never forgot what his grandfather had said that day. Nowadays he just wondered when he’d find his “other half”. He hadn’t been in love since he was 16.

The library was a huge, white building with beautiful pillars – those white ones that look really exclusive and Greek. When he entered, he got an unexpected good feeling. He was met by warmth and low buzzing of voices.  
He had been standing mesmerized by the door for a short while when he snapped back to reality, feeling someone’s eyes on him. He looked over at the receptionist a couple of meters away, and realized it was him who had been staring.  
It was a boy – about his age? He looked pretty young. He had short blond hair and was wearing a white button-up shirt with rolled up sleeves. He was short and small, so the shirt was slightly baggy on him. When Richard approached him, he noticed his small, silver earrings as well. The boy’s nametag said “Paul”.  
Paul.

The much shorter boy was just smiling at him, his eyes huge and blue. Beautiful. “May I help you?” he asked. Richard cleared his throat and smiled. “Claude Monet. I need books on him.”  
Paul’s eyes lit up. “Wow, are you interested in art? Monet is my favourite painter,” he said, and Richard couldn’t help but notice how Paul showed his excitement, despite trying to keep a professional, friendly smile on his face. “Yeah,” Richard foolishly lied, “uhm, my name is Richard, by the way.”  
Paul came out from behind the receptionist desk and gestured for Richard to follow him. “The art section is over here,” he said, mainly to himself, it seemed. Maybe he was new, and still tried to figure out and remember where everything was placed. Richard strolled after him, taking in the surroundings. The library was pretty nice, nicer than he allowed himself to admit (for now). People were sitting in groups, pairs or alone in chairs and sofas here and there. Some were reading, some were studying, others were just quietly chatting. It was pleasant.  
“Here, here and…,” Paul handed Richard two books, “… uhm… here, maybe?” He laid a third book on top of the two books in Richard’s arms. “That might be enough.” He quickly scanned the shelves and nodded. “There are more books about Monet, but you probably don’t need all of them, yeah?” Paul chuckled and glanced up at him. Richard realized he had been completely captivated by Paul and was now awkwardly staring at him. “Oh, yes. This is enough. Thanks you. I mean, thanks. I’m sorry… Shit.” His face got redder as he spoke. Paul’s face didn’t really match his white shirt anymore, either.  
Unfortunately, Paul was the most beautiful person Richard had ever seen, and it messed with him. Richard had been in his presence for no less than five minutes.  
Admitting it to himself was surreal and stupid, but fuck, he had never felt like this around someone before.

That night, Richard lay wide awake in his bed, listening to Oliver’s quiet, even breaths in the bed across the narrow room. The sheets were calmly rustling now and then. Richard’s own breath and heart just wouldn’t stay calm, and he kept turning, trying to find a comfortable position. After a while he sat up in frustration and stared out the window over his bed.  
His thoughts were a mess. He kept thinking about Paul – how genuine his smile was when they talked, and how bright and kind his eyes were. Richard actually wanted to slap himself. He had literally just met Paul, and because of that, calling it a crush would be almost illegal. He had never believed in love at first sight, but Paul made him beyond curious. Richard had a gnawing urge to go back to the library just to look at him. Jesus. It was pathetic.  
He had also put himself in such a sticky situation. He had never looked at boys like that, or even considered anything like it. That had now turned in the matter of just a short library visit.

Richard was going to meet up with his friends Till and Flake the next day. They were a couple, but they somehow managed to never make anyone feel like a third-wheel. That was a great quality, as Richard was currently single as fuck. He would probably stay single for a long time, too. Yep, this was a very, very sticky situation for him.  
Oliver were supposed to come with them as well, but he had a date. A date! Richard had teased him constantly for it, ever since he found out; it was a date just like those you see in movies, with a girl like, well, those you see in the same movies. In the end, Richard was just teasing him to hide the very fact that he wanted to take the cute, blond, part-time librarian to a similar date.  
Richard came straight from class, and Till and Flake were a bit older, so the three weren’t in the same class. Having no close friends in his classes didn’t really bother Richard; he could get along with people if he actually wanted to, but so far, he had had no need.

”You two should just stop fucking around and get together already,” Richard had said once, as a joke, but Till and Flake had actually started going out. After that, Till just would not stop calling him “The Love Doctor”. It was the strangest thing, but it also showed a really dorky side of Till he didn’t show very often. In the beginning, “The Love Doctor” was great. Now, he wasn’t so sure anymore. He wondered if maybe something like “Bad Luck” would fit him a bit better.

A weak “Hey, guys” was all Richard could get out when he approached them. Flake, being the mom friend (a weird nickname Oliver so kindly had given him; it was beyond accurate, Richard had to admit) quickly noticed how different Richard acted. He put a gentle hand on his arm. “Hm, is everything alright?” Richard shrugged. “Well, yeah. I’m just feeling kinda off, y’know? Probably just that test coming up. I just don’t fucking get that subject in science.” He sighed and put his hand on the nape of his neck.  
Flake was the one to immediately notice if something was wrong, and Richard usually really appreciated it. But now, he just needed space. The fact that he couldn’t even talk about his interest for a boy to a gay couple was hilarious to him.  
Till didn’t really respond to the conversation, as per usual. He had his arm around Flake. For some reason, Richard felt a tug of jealousy in the pit of his stomach. He imagined his own arms around Paul’s small body, holding him close in an embrace he’d probably never be able to give him.


	2. Curiosity /kjʊərɪˈɒsɪti/ (noun) - "a strong desire to know or learn something"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quirky mistakes your crush makes when he doesn't know shit about Claude Monet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Someone suggested a chapter from Paul's POV, so I've decided to switch POV every chapter, just for the hell of it.  
> 2\. I am literally trying my best to match the days in this chapter to the days in the first chapter. It is not going very well, so if you notice something off just let me know !!  
> 3\. I kinda just came home from Germany. I know I haven't been active (and I haven't been writing), so Germany is my excuse lol thanks

PAUL'S POV.

Paul slumped down on his bed. The bed responded by bumping his body up and down a couple of times. It creaked, Paul thought. His bed was creaking way too much. It had bothered him for a while now, but for some reason, it was especially annoying tonight. He sighed, unbuttoned his shirt and threw it on the floor. Shivers covered his neck and arms. His apartment was usually chilly; the way he liked it. He made sure he always had at least one window slightly open.  
It was a late Friday evening. He had been at work at the library, then at his favourite coffee bar, where his friend Christoph worked. That guy was such a flirt. He would flirt with nearly every customer – boys as well as girls, but he wouldn't seriously consider boys normally. Paul didn’t really understand what his intention was. He would've understood it if Christoph was the customer, and tried to flirt his way to a lower price. But Christoph wasn't the customer.  
His flirting would've even been awkward for everyone involved if he wasn't so damn good at it.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and as Paul fished it up, he glanced down at the display. “Speak of the devil,” he muttered.

“Hi, Chris, what’s up?”  
“Hey. Just wanted to check up on you. You cool?”  
“Yes, of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?” Paul tried to sound relaxed, but the easiness he tried to add to the sentence just made him sound a lot more distressed.  
“You seemed a bit distracted at the cof’ bar today. What’s that about? Got a girlfriend goin’ on or something?”  
Now Paul actually snorted. “Hah, no. Good guess, though.”  
“Okay, well, I gotta go. I’m at a bar. Trying to get laid tonight.”  
“For real? You’ve got work tomorrow. Don't drink.”  
Christoph ignored him. “Oh, and Paul? If there’s no girlfriend, you should come too. You really seem like you need some sex. Just to loosen up, you know.”   
Paul snickered. “Best of luck to you. I‘ll pass.”

He tapped his thigh gently with his fingers as he lay calmly on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The student from the library – Richard – kept popping up in his head and he hated it.  
Paul had never seen him before. He had seen him for the first time two days ago. Paul had been working part-time at the library for two months now, and it seemed this guy was new there. Or perhaps he had just moved to town? Paul sat up in his bed and ended up on the edge, resting his elbows on his knees. His forearms hung limp between his thighs.   
If anyone had seen him now, it would’ve looked like he was contemplating his entire life and existence. This was actually kind of the case.   
Still deep in thought, he got up and made himself a cup of chai tea.

* * *

“Hey, boy.” Christoph dumped down next to him on the beige couch in the coffee bar. Paul frowned. “Are you allowed to leave your shift?” Christoph crossed his legs – ankle on knee – put his arms behind his neck and leaned back against the cream coloured wall. “Probably not. But see, my girl Nina got this.” He waved to the girl behind the counter – Nina, apparently. She smiled back.There were few customers today, so she did actually manage, it seemed.

Christoph rubbed his hands on his apron. The navy blue apron was covered with different powders and stuff you’d usually find in a coffee shop. Paul really didn’t know what everything was. It was a mess. It hung sloppily around his neck, tied with a loose bow on his back. But despite everything, it looked pretty good, in a quirky way nobody would understand but himself. Paul couldn’t put his finger on it, but his friend looked… professional. Finally, he had settled – and Christoph liked this job, Paul could tell.

* * *

The mornings at the library were usually not busy at all, but there were times where a pre-school class would come to visit.  
Today was one of these days, unfortunately. Paul almost didn’t get the chance to sit down behind the reception before a bunch of kids rolled in the doors. They were being noisy, and the teacher did her best to calm them down. She seemed a little frantic; she was pretty young.  
Some of the kids were running off, and the young girl desperately tried to gather them around her without yelling. Then she locked eyes with Paul. She looked like a lost puppy.  
And Paul hurried over.

He wasn’t very comfortable around children, but the kids actually seemed to listen to him. “Hey,” he called out and whistled. The children who had run off hadn't come far, and were returning. They didn't see their behaviour as an issue - they were just playing. Paul didn't mind, though.  
The girl hid her face in her hands, red on the tip of her ears. “I apologize for the noise, I am so sorry…”  
She was babbling. “It’s alright,” Paul chuckled. “They’re kids. It’s just how they are.”  
She thanked him again and led her class to the children’s library section. Paul crossed his arms over his chest and ignored the sharp looks some of the elderly women gave him.

He had been way too concentrated on his work, because suddenly he realized someone stood before the reception, coughing gently.

“Hello.”  
When he looked up, Paul’s heart skipped at least a thousand beats. It was him – Richard, the student from the other day. He carried the three books about Monet in his arms.  
“Oh… Hi. You’re back so soon,” Paul responded. He scratched his neck and looked down. “Yeah. I’ve finished these… I got all the facts I needed, actually,” Richard said. He flipped a bit through the book on the top. Then he closed it and looked back at Paul. “I especially love his painting… “Woman with an Umbrella”, Richard continued.   
Paul chuckled slightly. “Parasol.”  
“Sorry?”  
”The painting is called “Woman with a Parasol.”


	3. "Fick mich, bitte"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The kiss was deep but shaky, and when the other man pulled away, Richard realized what a shitty situation this actually was."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS CHAPTER CONSISTS MOSTLY OF SEXUAL ASSAULT AND FORCING SO IF THIS ISN'T OKAY BY YOU PLEASE DON'T READ IT BECAUSE I WANT Y'ALL TO STAY SAFE !!!

RICHARD'S POV.

That evening, as Richard lay on his bed, his unfinished essay crossed his mind.  
Again.  
He had had plenty of time to finish the shit, but his mind had been elsewhere… for the entire week, basically. Richard couldn’t really say he’d ditched it because he’d been far too busy fantasizing about some librarian dude. He could almost hear his professor’s nasal voice: “I am not having it, Richard.”  
Oliver sat on the ragged couch, reading some book. “Yo, Ollie?” Richard said, trying to catch his friend’s attention. It usually took a lot longer, because when Oliver was reading, there was literally no use trying to speak to him. Now though, he finished a paragraph and put his book aside. “What’s up?”

As it turned out, Oliver did not want to write Richard’ essay for him.

* * *

Richard must’ve fallen asleep, because suddenly the room was a lot darker and Oliver was sound asleep underneath his covers. The small room was illuminated by the light of the green 23:19 from the digital clock.  
He glanced over at his laptop on the desk, subtly, as if he was afraid it would come flying across the room and smack him in the face. Richard walked over to the desk, pulled out the chair, but changed his mind quickly. Instead of sitting down, he slammed the laptop shut. He could no longer see the intimidating, black screen that hid the horribly rushed text he’d come up with.  
But that didn’t exactly dull the anxiety that had been creeping up on him. Now, it was like the essay was screaming at from between the narrow crack that separated screen and keyboard.  
He huffed, grabbed his jacket and went outside.

The streets were really quiet at this time of the day. He walked for a bit and eventually stopped underneath a lamppost.  
He pulled out his pack of smokes and his lighter, lit a cigarette and put it between his lips. Soft smoke slid out from between his trembling lips.

“Got one?” A voice appeared on Richard’s left side, and he slowly turned his head, his cigarette resting in the corner of his mouth.  
The person who had spoken was a man, slightly taller than Richard. He had big hands and a pretty haircut. Standing next to him, Richard kind of felt like the least attractive person in the world.

Richard came to his senses and cleared his troath. “A cigarette? Sure, yeah.” He opened the carton and directed it at the man, who took one. Richard lit it for him.  
“I’m Christoph,” the man said after taking a drag on the cigarette. “I’m Richard.”

They stood quietly, and Richard eventually finished his cigarette. He was getting really cold now, and it was getting late. “Maybe you should get home to your girlfriend, I don’t know,” Richard mumbled and plucked on his hoodie sleeve. “Ain’t got one.” Christoph let go of the cigarette stump and stepped on it. “Surprising, yeah?” Christoph chuckled slightly, and Richard shrugged. “Sorry. I don’t know you. I’m gonna go.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets and turned away.  
After walking a few meters, he heard Christoph’s voice again.  
“Wait up, pretty boy.”

Before Richard could even react, he was being pushed against the brick wall. Strong hands had his wrists pinned over his head and it hurt so fucking badly. His skin was being scraped up on the uneven surface. Christoph’s thigh pressed against his crotch. Richard felt so helpless, he couldn’t prevent Christoph’s lips from touching his own.  
The kiss was deep but shaky, and when the other man pulled away, Richard realized what a shitty situation this actually was.  
The guy had a strong taste of alcohol on his lips. He was fucking drunk, and really strong while at it. “Fuck me, pretty boy,” Christoph exhaled against Richard’s exposed neck.

No one was around.  
Richard was only accompanied by the blinking lamppost and by now, he was actually so fucking scared. Christoph’s left hand squeezed both his wrists and he was resting his right hand on Richard’ crotch.  
He wanted to scream, fight back, he just wanted to get away.  
“I am gonna call the fucking cops if you don’t get the fuck away, do you get me?” Richard snarled. "You fucking psycho!" He tried to sound intimidating and keep his voice from trembling, and it worked surprisingly well, considering he was on the verge of tears. Christoph lift his head and looked into Richard’s eyes. He loosened the grip around Richard’s wrists just a tiny bit, and Richard saw his chance. He wriggled free and punched him square in the face. Christoph stumbled away and a hand quickly shot up to his nose in surprise. Blood was running down his hand, creating thin, red rivers on the white skin. Richard took one step forward and punched him another two times. Then he sprinted the short distance that separated him from the door. His knuckles were bloody, but he ignored it.


	4. Torn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paul finally connects the dots, and realizes that the lives of two people he cares for are intertwined - in the worst way possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I am posting this from school because tomorrow I have my first exam. I just rly felt like I had to post this chapter NOW because it's been a while and I am so eXCITED to continue this mess  
> 2\. I could not for the life of me figure out a title on this chapter sorry it's so basic lmao

PAUL'S POV.

He had seen it.

The second Christoph had been punched in the face thrice by some other man, Paul had run around the corner. He had stopped in his tracks, not catching a glimpse of the man who had punched his way too drunk friend.  
Paul had told himself to keep an eye on Christoph the entire evening, and he even went to the club with him. He wasn’t planning on drinking himself. He could drink, yeah, it was not like he never did. He just didn’t want to drink when he was out with Christoph, because when that guy first started drinking, he always just lost it.

And now he had completely lost it, apparently.  
Paul didn’t know what had gone down between him and the other guy, but it must’ve been something pretty serious, as he had been punched in the nose – three times.  
Now Christoph was on Paul’s sofa, occasionally groaning in his sleep. Paul had taken the day off to stay with him till he was alright enough to take care of himself. Yesterday had been pretty heavy for him, so it could take a while.  
Paul got up from his chair and went over to his friend. He sat down on the edge of the sofa and ran his fingers gently through Christoph’s hair. “Hey, buddy,” Paul whispered. Christoph groaned, threw himself around and vomited heavily into the bucket Paul had placed next to the sofa. “Oh, gross. Alright. I’ll get you some water, yeah?” Paul snorted.

* * *

“Christoph?”  
Paul reached for the remote and paused the movie they were watching. “Sucker, the best part is coming up,” Christoph complained and threw a pillow at him. He had sobered up completely, pretty much. At least all the alcohol was gone from his system.   
“I mean it, shut up. I gotta ask you something.” It seemed Christoph understood the serious undertones in Paul’s voice, and he shut up.  
“What do you remember from last night?”  
Christoph went silent. So did Paul. “I… don’t know. I don’t remember much… did I do something?”  
Paul repositioned on the couch. He faced Chris in the casual lotus position. “I think you did.”

After Paul had told him the little part of the situation he had seen, things seemed to come back to Christoph.  
“Oh my God, Paul. There was this guy – Richard, I believe. I think I’ve done something really, really bad–” The distress caused him to throw up once again and Paul automatically stumbled to his legs to fetch the bucket from the bathroom.  
Richard.

Christoph had been sulking and pacing around, and the two hadn’t spoken together for the past twenty minutes.  
“Paul, fuck,” Christoph boasted, his voice breaking. Then he grabbed his coat and left the apartment, broken down in tears and despair. The door slammed, and Paul could hear Christoph’s heavy, quick footsteps thudding, echoing between the walls of the hallway.  
Paul was left in shock as Christoph left, but he managed to get himself back to reality fast enough to realize that his friend probably shouldn’t be on his own right now.

He found Christoph curled up in the driver’s seat of his blue car. Paul opened the door to the passenger’s side and invited himself inside. “Chris, fucking pull yourself together, man,” Paul said after some minutes of silence and sobbing from Christoph. “You fucked up big time, but listen, what can you do?”  
Paul realized how stone-cold and mean he sounded, but hey, someone had to tell Chris the truth. He had been drunk, and he didn’t even have any idea who he had been pawing on. It had been someone named Richard, according to Christoph.  
And even though Paul was worried senseless that the Richard was the Richard he (kind of) knew, he wanted to hope for the best.

Paul wasn’t really the one to judge the situation. What he had seen, was his friend being punched in the face three times by someone. It wasn’t some angry-girl slap – though he didn’t doubt for a second girls could punch like that – God no, they could probably cause worse harm to creeps than this guy had done to Chris.  
“What happened last night, Chris?”  
Christoph looked up at him. His eyes were red and he looked tired. “What?”  
“What did you do to him?”

Silence.

Paul was pouring both lemon juice and salt in the wound, he knew it, and it didn’t really help. He smiled gently and told Christoph to drive carefully. “It will be okay,” he said.  
He meant it.

* * *

He stood on his very tip toes to reach the highest shelf. The trolley next to him was still overloaded with books, and of course, the heaviest ones were going on the top shelves. The damn library had like, two stools, and he never had any idea where they were when he needed them.  
Suddenly, he felt a warm hand on his exposed lower back. The touch made the hair on his arms rise. He turned around and faced an horrible-looking Richard. He was really surprised, because he actually hadn’t seen him around for a while.  
But, really, he looked absolutely horrible.  
His hair was unwashed and he looked sickly pale. He had bags under his eyes. It seemed he hadn’t slept well. He was wearing an washed-out, black, ugly t-shirt with a logo Paul didn’t recognize, but he was certain it was some band.

“Hi… Richard,” Paul exclaimed, and bit his tongue before he could say, “you look good,” – it was just a friendly habit he had. Richard cocked his head to the side, looked at Paul, and said, “I haven’t slept. I literally haven’t slept at all and everything I can think about is you. I had to see you.” Paul tried to ignore the fact that his heart was beating unnaturally fast and chuckled slightly. The guy was beyond sleep deprived. Paul had no idea what he was doing out of bed, or even out of his house. God forbid he had drove down here – Paul got shivers just thinking about that. “Richard, it seems you should really rest… I don’t know what’s going on with you right now, but it doesn’t look good. Can I drive you home?” Richard just stood there, quietly. He was so, so different. Paul didn’t know much about him, no, but this wasn’t right. Again, he started thinking about the situation Richard might be in right now. He could be the victim in the Christoph/someone situation. Paul grabbed Richard by the shoulder and hurried out of the library. He didn’t even make sure any of the staff knew about his absence, which he usually would’ve done.  
He just had to see for himself, if his suspicions were true.

“Turn left,” Richard said drowsily. Paul immediately did as he said, because Richard had been a bit slow on informing him and he had almost missed the turn. The car was thrown abruptly to the left and suddenly they were there – outside the apartment complex Paul had seen that night. Paul immediately turned to face Richard, who seemed like he was falling asleep as he unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the door. Paul took a shaky breath. “Richard, I am so sorry,” he whispered. “Thanks for the ride,” Richard said and slammed the door shut.


	5. "As long as you're okay, nothing else matters"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hi, library Paul. I didn’t know you had my number.”
> 
> “You can’t even guess how many Richards I’ve called before finally reaching you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) this contains lowkey oliver/richard, not in a romantic way, though in such an important way omg  
> 2) I hope the standard on this chapter is alright, im gonna untangle everything soon BUT dont expect it to be untangled forever :)

RICHARD'S POV.

His phone buzzed on his nightstand. Again. He hadn’t answered it for a couple of days. He had gone on and about with his usual activities, but the phone had been left ignored. It seemed quite busy with receiving calls nowadays. Sometimes a girl he had been dating called, sometimes it was just his mom. It didn’t matter who it was, he felt at peace with not answering whoever it was. It was like he had entered a hippie state of mind. He snorted at the mental image of himself with long hair and tie-dye shirts.

But tonight, the phone just wouldn’t stop bothering him. He sat up on his bed and looked at the screen. It showed a phone number, so it wasn’t someone he had on his contact list. He didn’t recognize the number either, so out of pure curiousity, he picked it up.

“Uhm, hey, it’s Richard.”

The other person didn’t speak at first. Richard started wondering if it could be a prank call, just a group of kids who wanted to recreate the famous “you will die in seven days”-scene from that one crappy horror movie. But just as he was about to hang up, there was a voice.

“Richard?”  
He put his phone up to his ear again, cautiously. “Yeah? Who’s this?”  
“It’s Paul. Uhm, library Paul.”

Richard’s heart skipped a bunch of beats and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He smiled at the floor.

“Hi, library Paul. I didn’t know you had my number.”

“You can’t even guess how many Richards I’ve called before finally reaching you.”

*   *   *

They met up in a small coffee shop in town the next day. It had taken Richard about half an hour to get there by bus. He had never been there before, but Paul highly recommended the place – he had a friend working there, he said, so he had been there a lot.

Richard saw the café from afar and went off on a stop where just a couple of stores separated him from the café where he knew Paul waited for him. He hurried down the street.

It seemed as if Paul never took out his small silver earrings, and they glimmered gracefully in the sunlight that shone through the big windows. Richard tried to greet him with a smile through the window as he entered the café, but Paul didn’t look up from his book.

“You don’t drink coffee?” Richard asked as he approached Paul and sat down next to him. In front of Paul stood a white cup of light brown tea. He greeted him with a bright smile. “No, I am not fond of the bitter taste,” he answered and closed the book he was reading. Richard ordered a cup of black coffee.

“So, why did you invite me here?” Richard asked over the rim of his cup.  
“Oh. Please listen.”

Richard managed to sit through everything Paul had to say, even though he felt pretty damn unwell afterwards. “You’re saying… your friend was the one who assaulted me?”  
Paul nodded solemnly. He had his small hands wrapped around his cup and he stared straight ahead, out the window. The streets were full of people now. The café felt like a quiet getaway – for the two of them, only the two of them.

They had both been quiet for longer than what felt comfortable, though Richard just wanted Paul to say something, anything. Eventually, Richard cleared his throath. “Okay,” he said, and Paul sighed quietly. “Okay, yeah. I’m so sorry.”

“Look... I don’t want your pity, Paul.” Now it was Richard’s turn to quiet down. He rested his hands on the tabletop, and Paul’s hand carefully gripped the hand closest to him. His hands were soft and warm after holding onto the cup for so long. No words were exhanged now. Richard felt a strange sense of calm and assurance like this. He didn’t know Paul’s last name, his address, his story, but he was starting to mean more to Richard than Richard had ever wanted someone to mean to him.

*   *   *

Richard unlocked the door to his apartment and was met by Oliver. Richard was startled; Oliver had been away for a little while, and Richard hadn’t expected him home just yet. He had stayed at his girlfriend’s cabin. Looking back to the day Richard had gone to the library sleep-deprived and unwashed, he wanted to laugh. There was no way Ollie would’ve let him go out like that, and anyone who knew them, would’ve understood that.

“How are things with Helena?” asked Richard. Oliver smiled nervously and rubbed his neck. “Haha… Can you read girls? Because I really can’t.”  
It seemed his mood instantly dropped from ‘alright’ to ‘gloomy’. Richard’s heart stung every time that expression spread on his best friend’s beautiful, soft face. “Hey, are there problems?”

Richard immediately wished he hadn’t asked, despite his well-fitting nickname The Love Doctor (thanks again, Till). If there was something he did not understand, it was love. Love just seemed like a huge, tricky mystery, and because of Paul, now more than ever.  
But Ollie always put up a facade, and after all these years with him, Richard could tell when something was bothering him.

“She left. In the middle of the night. Left this.” Oliver handed him a crumpled note, which Richard accepted, his hands shaking with anger and shock.

_Oliver,_

_This is probably really twisted but I am leaving you. When you read this, I am gone and we don’t have anything to do with each other anymore. Some friends my parents don’t accept have picked me up, so no, I didn’t take your car, I have set it so you can get yourself home. Consider this the suicide note of our relationship. It was fun as long as it lasted._

_Helena_

Richard carefully handed the note over to Oliver, who shrugged. “That is so sick.” Richard exhaled and rubbed his face. “Who knew girls could be that cruel?”  
But Oliver just smiled at him. “You’re right. Yeah, I lost Helena. I loved her, I think. But if this is the real her I am not so sure I wanna love her.” His voice was soft and somber, but it had a playful undertone to it, as it always had.

Richard watched as Oliver’s tall, slim frame sunk down on his bed. He laid down and put his hands under his head.

“As long as you’re okay, nothing else matters,” Richard said, quietly, not sure if he wanted his friend to hear him.  
Oliver didn’t hear him.


	6. Reading for Pleasure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It felt like the entire world stood still around Paul whenever he was with Richard, and he caught himself thinking, “this is how it should feel like.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy shit i apologize SO MUCH for the delay, I just havent been motivated enough to write. I didnt want to push myself too much because im currently fragile ((((lmao)))) and i was really afraid my writing would suck AF if i forced myself but..... here we are....... i hope everyones still around ♥
> 
> this is short and tbh??? a filler. just to get the story rolling. help

PAUL'S POV.

He would’ve never thought he could fall for a boy, but he was pretty sure he was, currently, falling for a boy. But this boy was breaking, and it hurt Paul down to the core. He really felt like helping Richard out of everything that was hurting him, but they were probably not close enough _by far_. Paul had no idea how Richard felt about him, even though he _did_ feel like there was something going on between them. Was Richard waiting for him to make a _real_ move? Paul literally had no idea what to do, but the more he thought about the situation, the faster he was falling for Richard.

*     *     *

He made sure that the aisle for art books was perfectly tidied before leaving. He was alone with this other girl who worked the same late evening shift as himself, Hannah. She was cleaning up the children’s aisles, as they were always quite messy. The two of them had a weird, quiet agreement that the art aisle was Paul’s responsibility. He got a serene feeling just by being there, looking at the tired spines of the old books.

Paul was abruptly startled by a female voice, yelling out. He assumed it was Hannah. It sounded as if something had freaked her the fuck out, and that thought alone freaked _Paul_ the fuck out. He put the books he was holding on the shelf and walked through the maze of shelves.  
“Hey, Hannah? You alright?” he called out.

 When he saw her, she was on her knees – shaking.

Paul nearly sprinted over to her in worry. He put his hand on her shoulder and kneeled next to her. “Hey, is everything okay?”  
“ _Fuck_ , mate, I’m so sorry.” She looked over at Paul. Her eyes were wet and she was laughing so hard no sound came out. Paul sunk down on his knees and sighed. “Jesus, I swear I thought someone was killing you, Hannah. What are you on about?”  
“I thought I saw a rat under the couch,” she pointed to the red couch in the corner, “but it was not a rat, it was a children’s shoe. Who walks out with their child only wearing one shoe, anyway?”

Paul helped her to her feet and snickered. “Well, I’m glad it was a false alarm. My hands are still shaking. Look.” He held up his shaking hand and looked at it. He was pretty sure all his emotional stress with Richard was taking its toll on him as well. He had never had trouble with his hands shaking. If he recalled correctly, he had read somewhere that stress could change some things about you.

Suddenly, Hannah grabbed the hand he was holding up. He didn’t get the chance to say anything before she put his hand on her round hip and pushed him gently against the wall behind him. She was slightly taller than him, and she was looking down at him, keeping his hand in place on her hip with her own hand. Her breath smelled slightly of smoke. Paul felt beyond uncomfortable, but was frozen in this _very_ sensual pose with Hannah. He held his breath.

“Listen… I have this huge fuckin’ crush on you… If you get me,” she whispered, as if someone was listening in on them. Paul just nodded, his eyes wide open, not quite sure what to do. She leaned down a bit. “I was hoping… maybe you felt the same… ish.” Then she kissed him. He let her, and when she pulled back with hope gleaming in her eyes, he just smiled shortly at her. “I haven’t finished cleaning the art aisle, so excuse me. I’ll check the crime novels next, and then we can lock up, yeah?”

Hannah was nowhere to be seen the next day. Paul asked Roger, the daily leader, who informed him that she had called in earlier and quit her job; just as he had suspected. Roger wondered if she had been weird during last evening’s shift. Paul told him that she must’ve quit for reasons the job wasn’t responsible for.

About an hour into his strangely calm shift, he saw a beautiful, familiar face walk in. His heart stopped beating till Richard approached him with a kind smile.

“Look, I’m just gonna say it, because you really don’t seem to get it when someone has a crush on you. Please, go out with me.”

Paul was overwhelmed. “Well, uhm… yes, of course… holy shit,” he laughed heartily. Richard grabbed his hand over the reception desk. He looked down on their interwined fingers and let out a huff. It felt like the entire world stood still around Paul whenever he was with Richard, and he caught himself thinking, “this is how it should feel like.”

“You know, I thought maybe I should start reading. Like, for pleasure, y’know,” Richard said, and Paul grinned. “Oh, what made you suddenly consider that?”

Richard looked into his eyes with a bright smile. “You did.”


End file.
